


Retort

by reyzul (MaK)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Unfinished, won't be finished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6232591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaK/pseuds/reyzul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Similar to the morning after... kind of, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retort

You wake up in the morning and take care to tread lightly over Kanaya's sleeping form. Once you successfully make your way to the bathroom in silence, you stand in front of the mirror and trace over the marks their lipstick has left along your neck. They're quite particular about their lipstick - the brand, the color, the amount, whether or not it's waterproof - so, it takes you a while to get almost all of it scrubbed off your skin. Even then, with the two bruises that host pale scars from their fangs and the other dozen bruises that don't, your skin still looks like a mess of color. Specifically, your neck does. You've got makeup smudged about your face, but that has nothing in comparison to the work Kanaya's done along your throat and above your shoulders. 

By the time you get most of yesterday's makeup off and have gotten rid of as much of Kanaya's lipstick as humanly possible, you wander back into your room and find that they're wide awake and waiting patiently for your return. As is the pattern, they're a tad sheepish in the morning; seeing all the hickeys and other various bruises they've put along your body always has them a little embarrassed once they witness them in actual lighting. Pressing the pad of their finger against a bruise close to your clavicle, they ask, "Does it hurt?"

Of course it does. "Of course it does," you tell them, swatting at their hand until they give it to you correctly and you fold their fingers between yours playfully. 

Kanaya smiles and, after a brief moment of hesitation, winds their arms around your waist and pulls you into their lap. While both of you are known to be graceful and poised in battle, neither of you are anything less than awkward when just sitting in a room. Your knee hits their hip a little harder than it should have and their grip is tighter than necessary, but the two of you make do and get comfortable after you position yourself to have your back to them and can still play with their hand over your shoulder. Kanaya busies themself with pressing kisses to the nape of your neck - this time around, the morning after, their lipstick has almost completely faded and there's no marks you have to worry about washing off later. 

You play with their fingers and quietly examine their ring finger. It's a thought you've had a few times and have taken care to dismiss, but you do think it would be somewhat sweet to actually give Kanaya some sort of ring - as is the customs on what-was-once-earth, after all. It'd may even be sweeter to _propose_ to them... Not that you necessarily care about marriage (ignoring the fact that the idea of marriage no longer exists because earth, also, no longer exists), but it would still be a romantic tradition to continue. Then again, you could just as easily continue the custom by giving them scarves or something, but you've already knitted them damn near a million of those (though "scarf" isn't the right word; at this point, you've just knitted lengths upon lengths of fabric so Kanaya can hang it up on their ceiling or whatever to black out the grey walls). In addition, you don't really have a ring to offer them. Nor do you have any clue as to how to alchemize one; as it would turn out, a simple metallic circle is a bit more complicated to conjure up than magical wands or pretty dresses.

The train of thought becomes derailed when Kanaya again plays with one of your bruises.

"Do you like my hickeys?" You look over your shoulder and smirk.

Kanaya's face quickly comes to resemble an expression made purely for when a baby - or a grub, perhaps - unwittingly eats a lemon. "I _don't_ like that word." They retort. 

You laugh and lean back, turning your head for a kiss and meet them halfway for it. 

Kanaya, without fail, is always happy and enthusiastic to kiss. It doesn't take long at all for their hand to wander from the bruises on your neck to your stomach - you keep a safe grasp on their other hand - and it takes even less time for their tongue to move your bottom lip in a request for access.


End file.
